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by Dualism aka Dualshine
Summary: So one day Zexion, while busy bemoaning his lonely life, decides a bride might break up the monotony nicely. So he steals one. Unfortunately, his wife's the kid of some god or another. And not quite happy about being abducted. And male. Can't forget male.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine

 **Notes/Warnings:** The KH crew as Greek gods. Horrible anachronisms. Temporary fits of inappropriate behavior (by which I mean kidnapping. really inappropriate kidnapping) as a result of magical love arrows. Also, mildly edited from its original form, mostly for grammar and what is hopefully a decrease in creepiness.

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 **View**

 **Chapter One: In Which Zexion Finds Himself a Bride**

In the beginning, Xemnas created the heavens and the earth. And he looked at this and saw that it was good.

This, of course, is an utter lie. Xemnas _manhandled_ the heavens and the earth away from his parents, then sent them all to the Underworld where they would live the rest of their not-lives out in the depths of the black abyss. And he looked at _this_ and saw that it was good.

Of course, he needed someone to manage Hell and ensure that those poor unfortunate souls found therein would _never_ find a way to escape. And so he challenged his brethren to a rigged game of poker, whereupon - following his complete and total ownage of the two other gods in question - he delegated the sea to his eldest brother and the underworld to his youngest, thus guaranteeing himself a comfy-cozy seat as the ruler of heaven.

And Xemnas looked at this, and saw that it was _very_ good.

Zexion, the pitiable youngest brother forced into an eternity of kingship in the depths of dark, dank Hell, did _not._

Zexion, sitting proudly on his ornate ivory throne, surveyed his kingdom with a magnanimous eye. And then he closed that eye, slumped forward, and groaned.

Death, he decided, was gross.

Death. Of all things! Zexion, perched upon his large throne, was the ruler of an entire army of dead people. And he looked at this and saw that it was not good.

Oh, he had no _problem_ with being Lord of the Underworld, per se. He had always, after all, been something of a scholar, and there were few things more interesting than debating philosophy with some of the most intelligent mortal minds in history. Than discussing literature with the greatest scholars of the ages. Than piecing together knowledge and sciences from a thousand different cultures, some far beyond those of Greece.

And it wasn't like the _gig_ was difficult, exactly. No, Charon did most of the work, carting the souls forth - and sometimes back - across the river Styx. And what he couldn't handle, Zexion assigned to his three judges. Sure, his presence in Hell was required almost 24/7, but that was purely for census purposes.

Yes, Zexion had no problem with being the Lord of the Underworld. It was being nothing _else_ that bothered him.

When one is the god of death, one does not have many friends, and it is quite difficult to entertain oneself when the best company around have _been_ around for the past thousand years. The philosophers and scholars and scientists grew boring after the first few millennia, and it wasn't like Cloud and the rest made for very good conversation. Judge number 3 was entertaining enough, but he'd been spending too much time with Judge number 1 recently, and Judge number 2...well, _everyone_ knew about Judge number 2 and Zexion's poor, harassed boatman.

Not to say that every day was as boring as the last, of course. Every now and then, the three fates would fly by and irritate him, annoying little pests that they were. And he didn't even want to _think_ of the antics Seifer and Zell got into sometimes. If not for the fact that such a feat were surely impossible, Zexion would have been fully prepared to say that the noise those two made would one day bring Hell crashing around his ears. And dear Xemnas above, he couldn't bear to think about that thrice-damned god of war and his monthly attempts to seduce Styx's boatman away from the - relatively - warm embrace of Judge number 2. Dear God. He'd never _seen_ such property damage.

He'd offered to help Cloud file a restraining order, but the boatman had refused. Sometimes Zexion was sure they were all involved in some violent threesome.

The point, however, was that Zexion often felt the weight of loneliness pressing upon him a bit too heavily. Solitude was all very well and good, but this stretched far, far beyond that the quiet privacy he'd once known in the heavens, curled up on a cloud and reading the latest critical works. In the depths of the Underworld, there was no one to really _talk_ to. No one to debate with. Mortals were interesting for a while. But they would never be able to _see_ the same way a god could. The other denizens of hell were too wrapped up in their duties and each other, and either way, none were the sort who'd prefer words to action. Even those idiotic Gullwings were a blessed relief from the ennui of the Underworld, but they visited so seldom he sometimes forgot which was which.

Yes, life as the ruler of Hell was a monotonous one. He wanted something more. And so, he began plotting.

And so he plotted. And he plotted. And he plotted. Day and night, Zexion debated scenario after scenario, discarding one after another. And when no solution was forthcoming, he began to despair.

And then the answer came to him in an epiphany so sudden he nearly fell off his throne with the impact of the revelation. The answer to his quandary…it was all so _simple!_ Yes! How could he have never seen before when the solution was so agonizingly _obvious?_

Now! He just needed to find a suitable subject…

This is why, at half past three in the morning - or what passed for morning, anyway- he burst into Cloud's room and took a seat on his boatman's bed, ignoring both the two indignant squawks that echoed from underneath the covers and the interesting vibrating noise originating from deep within the sheets.

"Cloud," he said, folding his hands together and cutting his gaze to the two undefined lumps underneath the black cotton. "I've decided to marry."

Silence answered him. The strange vrr-ing noise slid to an abrupt halt. Then, an eternity later, a rumbled, spiky blond head of hair slowly peeked out from under the comforter, eyes unnaturally wide. His jaw worked soundlessly for a minute before his vocal chords decided to cooperate. "Come again?"

"You heard me," Zexion said. "And you're well aware that I do not have to justify my decisions. If I choose to do so, it's only because I am in need of an opinion. I desire a companion. I'd like to request your aid."

Cloud struggled out from under the covers. "A companion," he said disbelievingly. "You…want me to help you choose a wife."

"Yes," Zexion said. "For Xemnas's sake, put some clothes on."

Cloud ignored this last order. He shook his head slowly. "A wife _._ "

"There are only so many ways I can say this," Zexion said. "Yes."

A tousled brunet head, still slightly flushed from what he and Cloud had obviously been doing to each other not two minutes prior, rose from out of the bedsheets, squinting at both boatman and god with something like confusion approaching horror. "A _wife_."

"I'm starting to grow a bit offended _,_ " Zexion said. "Yes, a wife. More importantly, I told you to put on clothes."

Both men shot wary looks at each other, but nodded, and slowly began shrugging on a slightly anachronistic pair of pants. "All right," Cloud said slowly. "A wife." He turned to stare down at man still lying on his bed. "Do you...have anyone in mind?"

"Not particularly," Zexion said. "I was thinking intelligent, capable of speaking at length, and also they have to agree with everything I say."

Leon stared. "I think you might have problems with that last one."

"I said _intelligent,_ " Zexion sighed. "Of course they'd agree with everything I say. Suggestions?"

Leon began eyeing the door with the air of a man deciding whether cowardly escape would be worth it. "I'm not sure I should be offering suggestions," he said. "You can't just make a list of every available woman in existence and choose which one is most worthy of being Queen of the Underworld."

"Of course I can," Zexion frowned. "I have a great deal of free time."

"Let me rephrase," Leon said. "You can't just make a list of every available woman in existence, choose which one is most worthy of being Queen of the Underworld, and also expect them to be able to stand you for more than ten minutes at a time."

"I'm going to elect to ignore that, on the basis that I don't think _I_ could put up with anyone else for more than five minutes at a time, so it's a moot point," Zexion said. "Anyway, I don't exactly want a love match. Mostly I just want someone to keep me from falling asleep in the middle of biweekly neighborhood watch meetings, and friends don't offer tax benefits. It would be a business arrangement. A crown in exchange for someone to talk at."

"I think you mean talk _to_ ," Leon said.

"No," Zexion said. "I don't."

Leon stared at him, jaw working silently for a minute. "You…" He began, then groaned in defeat. "Fine. Kairi."

Cloud shook his head. "No. She's affianced."

A surprised pause. "To who?"

"I don't know, but he's definitely not good enough for her."

"I think that's a pretty unfair thing to say if you don't know who he is."

" _Kairi_. Xemnas himself wouldn't be good enough for her."

"Let's be honest, though, Xemnas wouldn't really be good enough for anyone."

"If you two are done committing gross heresy," Zexion said. "Could we continue?"

Cloud and Leon glanced at each other for a moment, then shrugged. "Tifa."

Zexion raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "You want me to marry the personification of _Chaos._ "

"She's not so bad," Cloud said reflexively.

"I think she hates me," Zexion mused.

"Point," Cloud said. "Larxene?"

Leon and Zexion both burst into simultaneous choking fits. "Just a joke," Cloud said, sighing. "Sorry."

" _Don't,_ " Zexion said, reaching up to tug at a lock of hair almost anxiously. "I _know_ she hates me."

The two others hid smiles, then fell into silence.

It was Cloud who moved first. He opened his mouth, then closed it, brow furrowing and eyes turned inwards. "If you want someone who might _last_ ," he said slowly, as if weighing his every word. "Marluxia has a child. He's been keeping the brat away from most of Olympus for years. The birth caused a bit of a scandal, supposedly, but everyone tried to hush it up. I'm not surprised you hadn't heard; _I_ only know 'cause Sephiroth mentioned it a few years ago, back in the day when he wasn't being such a-"

Zexion waved a hand in dismissal, frowning down thoughtfully at the floor. "Marluxia has a daughter?"

Cloud stared blankly at him, then shrugged. "I don't know, I never asked."

Zexion glanced at him curiously, but dismissed the odd statement. Cloud was almost recklessly loyal; he'd never do anything to endanger him, and his judgment had always been sound. "All right," he said finally, nodding to himself. "Tell me more."

The boatman raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but nodded. "The name's Demyx. Pretty little blond thing, from what I've heard. Sings like a bird and swims like Poseidon's own." The other eyebrow joined its partner, and he took a long, careful glance at his lord. "I…actually think you might like the kid."

Zexion's eyebrows lowered at that, but he said nothing. For the longest while he stood there, staring down at his hands, eyes unseeing.

"All right," he said finally. "Where can I find her?"

"The lake in Enna," Cloud said, "according to gossip. Just listen for the sound of singing. Or splashing. Depends on what mood the kid's in."

"Right," Zexion said, nodding once. He closed his eyes for a moment, then began walking towards the entrance.

Both boatman and judge straightened, shooting each other nervous stares. "Sir!" Leon called, rising to his feet. "Surely you don't mean to kidnap h-"

"I'm not a fool," Zexion said, eyeing his servants blandly. "And I'm not in the habit of coercion when business works so much better. If she turns me down, I'll accept her wishes and try to find someone else. I'm simply going to meet her. That's all."

The two men reclining on the mattress glanced at each other, then nodded slowly. "Good luck," Cloud said, lifting a hand goodbye. "And…" Something odd shifted in his face. For a minute, Zexion could have sworn he was fighting a grin. "Well. Have fun."

The god of the Underworld raised an eyebrow, nodded in farewell, and then disappeared.

As soon as they were sure Zexion was out of ear shot, Cloud and Leon burst out laughing.

Some miles away, a tall, white-haired boy scrambled up a tree. A few feet behind him, a smaller boy gave chase.

"Riku!" the smaller boy hissed, clumsily pulling himself up the branches. "Give them back!"

Riku laughed brightly, blowing a kiss over his shoulder even as he continued climbing the thick growth. A bow and quiver of arrows were slung across his back, and they bounced against him with every handhold he managed to grab. "In a minute," he called. "I just wanna try them out once."

" _Riku!_ " Sora moaned in frustration, leaning against one of the older branches and staring up at his laughing lover. "You don't know how to use them! We could get in _huge_ trouble!"

"No, we won't," Riku said, glancing down to shoot him a reassuring grin. At least, Sora thought it was meant to be a reassuring grin. In reality it came out looking a bit like a shark. "C'mon. I just wanna try them out. I'll just shoot a squirrel, or something. He'll find his true love and all will be well. The world needs more squirrels."

"The world does not need more squirrels," Sora said. "There are enough squirrels. There are _so many squirrels."_ He took the hand Riku offered him and allowed himself to be pulled up to the branch. "You should know better than to play with a god's toys. If the big man finds out, I'm blaming it on _you._ "

"No, you won't," Riku said, smiling. "Old Man Xemnas would _kill_ me. And we don't want that, do we, Eros?"

"Don't call me that," Sora muttered. "And shut up."

Riku grinned down at him and bent quickly, pressing their lips together for a fraction of a second before he turned back around, un-slinging the bow and quiver from his shoulder and dropping them onto his lap. He withdrew a single, gold tipped arrow from the leather jacket and set it against the bow, drawing the string back taut.

"Just a squirrel?" Sora said nervously, leaning forward to rest his head on Riku's shoulder. Riku's lips quirked.

"Just a squirrel. And look: I think I see movement _right_ …"

A large patch of foliage not fifty feet away quivered. Leaves and branches quivered ominously, as if some animal was making its way through the dense undergrowth.

"… _there_."

Riku smirked, and let the arrow fly.

Zexion made his way through the forest, pushing stray branches away from his face. Whose bright idea had it been to cover the earth in _trees?_ Well, he'd wager his pet poodle that the culprit's name began with 'Mar' and ended in 'xia,' and Cerberus was _not_ something he'd idly bet.

"I'm going to kill him one of these days," he muttered irritably, waving a large bumblebee away. "You just watch. Bastard'll get what's coming to him."

He flinched suddenly as a sharp pain swept through his chest. He glanced downward, eyes narrowing. Fucking bumblebees. Oh, Marluxia was gonna hear about _this._

Gritting his teeth, he flung one last tree branch away from his unholy person and burst through the foliage.

From their perch atop their tree, two immortals - one birthed and the other made - blinked.

"Psyche," Sora said, his voice soft and silky in the quiet morning breeze. "Please tell me you did not just shoot the _God of the fucking Underworld_ with one of my arrows."

Riku gulped. "Uh. Oops?"

Zexion dusted himself off and glanced around the clearing curiously. He stood before a giant lake, beautiful and serene in the night. Moonlight shimmered across it, creating a lazy, silvery tableau, and small fish leapt from the water in a quaint, delicate dance.

Zexion, being Zexion, noticed none of this. No, his eyes were sweeping the clearing. He could hear no singing, but…His eyes darted across the surface of the water, zeroing in on every disturbance. He couldn't see anything, but how long could a single woman, goddess or no, stay underwater? If she was down there, she'd be surfacing soon. He sighed, leaned back against the tree, and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

A good hour later, Zexion finally admitted to himself that perhaps the woman wasn't down there, and that he'd probably been waiting around for nothing. He sighed to himself, reaching up to palm his forehead lightly in an effort to dispel the migraine building there. He supposed he could wait. See if she showed up. If worst came to worst, he'd just drop by at Marluxia's.

And then Zexion noticed the bubbles trailing across the surface of the otherwise-still water. He frowned and took a step backward, obscuring himself in the shadows of the trees. She was down there, he realized suddenly. She'd been submerged for over an hour, unless there existed some underwater grotto filled with air. Swam like a child of Poseidon, indeed.

The grin on his face quirked peculiarly, and a soft sort of stab pinched at his chest. Imagine. He was going to meet her.

The surface broke. From the lake, a person emerged.

Shoulder-length dark-blond hair clung wetly to her neck and shoulders, curving along the white column. Droplets of water gleamed in the moonlight and poured down her slim back, forming trails that fell between shoulder blades, down the long arch of her spine, to be lost forever in the gentle curve of the bottom covered just barely by the soft tides of shallow water.

She leaned over, swinging her hair over a strong shoulder and taking it between two delicate hands, wringing the water from it and combing it through with slim fingers. Harpist's fingers.

In that moment, Zexion decided that he would have no one else.

He took a step backward, back into the foliage, the dark shade of it obscuring his face. The woman was already making her way towards the bank, treading through the gentle flow, but he turned his face away. It would not be proper to catch a glimpse of her total nakedness. Well. Not until they were _married_ , at least.

He nodded to himself and bowed his head. It was time.

He lifted a hand to the sky and snapped his fingers, just once. Immediately, a black carriage materialized from what seemed to be the shadows, diamonds and bones woven together to form some half-substantial tapestry of horrors. A team of dark, fire-eyed horses reared and pawed at the air, manes of hair tossed back in soundless whinnies. He nodded at one, then made some strange, arching motion with his left hand. Immediately it disengaged itself from the others and walked forward, stretching his neck outward to nuzzle Zexion's open hand.

The large horse quirked its head at him curiously, but Zexion had already turned around, rummaging within the depths of the carriage. "Please tell me I have a bag big enough to fit a person in here."

A high-pitched snort followed the words, and Zexion rolled his eyes, never once ceasing his hunt through the contents of the carriage. "What? You expect me to carry her kicking and screaming all the way back home? Hell no. I'm tying her up in a rucksack and carting her back in the trunk."

If his unearthly team of stallions had anything to say about this he never noticed, because at that moment he managed to procure a woven sack, large enough to fit a wild boar, more than large enough to hold his soon-to-be-queen. He smiled to himself and slung the bag over his shoulder, then turned to face his horse.

"In and out," he repeated quietly. "Kneel."

The large black stallion threw him a look that almost looked irritated, but dropped to its knees anyway. Zexion slung one leg over the great animal's back, steadied himself, and then tapped the horse once on its neck. It rose slowly to its feet, pawing at the ground impatiently.

The god of death sighed, maneuvering the large animal around until it faced roughly in the direction of the clearing. He could see the goddess adjusting her robe one-handed, the other trying to wring water from dark blond locks of hair. His lips quirked upward.

They burst through the foliage.

On the lakeside, the goddess rose to her feet, turning to face the noise of thundering hooves approaching. She tilted her head curiously, and Zexion could _see_ the emotions sweeping through her face - surprise, confusion, fear, and…

Dude. She looked _pissed._

Her lips moved in what must have been a prayer - because Zexion _refused_ to believe that he'd read her lips correctly; no goddess as ethereal as this one would _ever_ say something as crass as _'Aw, fuck,_ ' - and she took off in a sprint towards the waters.

Zexion's eyes narrowed. Ten feet separated her from the lake. Twenty feet separated him from her. He narrowed his eyes, calculated the exact speed and trajectory needed to intercept her, muttered a curse, threw himself into a squat atop his horse, and then flung himself from the animal and directly into the woman, not one foot away from the water.

This worked out about as well as could be expected.

He pulled himself to his feet a few moments later, winded and somewhat surprised with himself. The goddess lay sprawled beneath him, face dug into the soft, sandy banks of the lake. Zexion poked at her. She didn't move.

Zexion did not say _oops._ Zexion was the god of the Underworld; of course he didn't say _oops._ He _thought_ it. And then he stopped thinking it, because he'd just been struck by one of Cupid's arrows, and his brain hadn't quite fought off the worst of its power yet. But for the split second of shock that came after realizing he'd just leapt from a horse with the intention of engaging in a dogfight with someone he was attempting to kidnap and had, in the process of executing said kidnapping, accidentally knocked them unconscious, he thought _oops._

Beside him, his large black horse nudged his shoulder with its great long nose. Zexion turned to glance at it, then hmm-ed in reassurance. "She's okay," he said. "Just a bit stunned." He bent over and began tucking her away inside the sack, taking care to make sure he didn't bump her any more than necessary. Not that that mattered much now, he supposed, but it was the thought that counted. Slowly, he made his way back to the carriage, his horse trotting faithfully beside him. He lifted her and placed her gently within the large, macabre coach, then moved to tie the horse beside its fellows. The large steed canted its head towards its master.

"Don't worry," he said, a tad more chipper than was entirely in character. "Everything will be fine. And we probably don't have to worry about her kicking up a fuss along the ride back. Goddess or no goddess, I did fall atop her rather roughly. She'll most likely remain unconscious until we reach the Underworld."

By the time they reached the entrance of Hell, Demyx was _very_ much awake. She illustrated this by pitching the most unholy fit Zexion had ever heard from _anyone,_ god or mortal. He grit his teeth and pulled the reins taut. The horses slid to a halt and he stepped down from the carriage carefully, dusting his robes off.

Footsteps echoed through the dark stone walls of the Underworld, and Zexion turned towards the sound. Cloud and Leon were running up, waving in greeting, shouting welcomes and questions into the still air. Zexion nodded at them, grabbed the screaming, thrashing sack, and dropped it none-too-gently onto the ground.

The two men tripped.

"Oh," Leon said, once he'd managed to disentangle himself from the pile of limbs. His eyes were very wide. He lifted a shaking finger to the writhing bag, his mouth working like a fish out of water.

"You didn't," Cloud gaped, unsteadily standing. He walked forward as if in shock. "You _didn't_."

"You kidnapped Marluxia's child," Leon muttered in awe. "As in, Demeter's. The god of the fucking earth. And…" He lifted a hand, pointing at the shrieking rucksack. "And _that's_ his child."

"Silence," Zexion said, voice uncharacteristically abashed. "She suited my purposes. I saw no reason to wait."

Cloud squinted at him. The expression looked no different from his usual one of complete nonchalance, except how Zexion got the feeling he was also five seconds away from hysterics. "You just proclaimed war on the _stole_ Marluxia's child! More to the point, you stole the other parent's child. Larxene's gonna use your testicles for stress balls."

For the first time since Zexion had realized he'd accidentally knocked someone unconscious, a little bit of his confused, uncertain terror crept through the fading haze. " _Larxene's_ the mother."

"How many females have you seen Marluxia hang out with over the past thousand years," Cloud asked.

"You said there was a scandal surrounding the birth," Zexion said, voice a little less sure of itself than it had been when he'd returned to the Underworld. "I'd assumed you meant that Marluxia went and impregnated a human female."

Cloud narrowed his eyes until they were slits, and he shook his head slowly. Zexion flinched, then cut his gaze to the roaring, thrashing bag.

"Well," he said, with the upbeat cheer of someone who was one hour ago shot by a love arrow but unfortunately was possessed of too strong a will to remain under its influence for long, and is thus beginning to feel that something is wrong, "what's done is done. Once she crossed the river Styx, she lost all ability to go topside. If this causes a fuss, I'll speak with her parents."

Which was when Cloud and Leon lost all semblance of composure.

" _Her_ parents," Cloud said. "Right. Oh God."

Zexion furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?" he asked, his voice just slightly taut with the effort it was taking the love spell to retain its hold on him. "What do you mean?"

Cloud's mouth worked uselessly, and he finally turned towards his lover for help. Leon looked strangely pale, but he managed a shrug. "Just open it," he said slowly. "See for yourself."

Zexion glanced them over for a moment, then nodded. He walked forward to the struggling rucksack, loosened the rope holding it closed, and then took a step back.

The bag was still for the barest fraction of a second, and then a damp, robed, very _angry_ body began crawling its way through the opening, cursing and swearing so fiercely Zexion winced. He stepped forward a pace, offering a hand to help the woman up. She didn't accept it. Actually, she punched him in the face and slammed him against the wall. "Where _am_ I?!" the woman shouted, shadows obscuring whatever was not covered by sopping-wet bangs. "What have you _done?!_ "

Both Cloud and Leon took surprised steps forward. Zexion waved them away, vision a little white around the edges, pain erupting where his skull had bounced off the stone. Immediately his body began healing of course, but there was still a strange haze around the corners of his vision. It felt like something rose-colored was being stripped away from his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" he answered, as best as he could under the circumstances. "You're in the presence of the god of the Underworld."

The woman snorted, tightening her baggy robes around her shoulders. "That doesn't answer my question," she snarled. "Which is why the hell you brought me here, and when the _hell_ you're going to take me back."

Pain was beginning to lance in the center of Zexion's head, different from the already-receding throb at the back of his skull. It felt as if a fog had been obscuring his head, and it was now being forcibly removed by the natural healing that had begun when Demyx had knocked open his head. "I won't be taking you back," he said anyway, rubbing at his temple with a hand. "You're staying here. I intend to make you my bride."

The woman burst into a coughing fit. "Excuse me?" she half-gasped, retreating a half-pace. "Would you mind repeating that?"

Zexion took a step forward because maybe that would distract him from the ache in his head, and looked down at her. Her face was still half-hidden, still obscured by damp bangs and shadows and the gloom inherent in the Underworld, but she looked every bit as beautiful as she had in the lake. More so; the dark, gloomy shadows framed her face quite nicely. Threw everything into obscurity. "You're to be my bride," he said again, in a last ditch effort to ignore his growing headache (or in a last ditch effort by the love spell to accomplish what it intended to do. "I know this is difficult, but do try to understand. I need a wife, and I'd never lower myself to cavorting with mortals. That, unfortunately, disqualifies the majority of the female populace, so you'll understand if I have a limited pool to choose from. It's a business arrangement," he said, voice strained. "I would barely even want to be around you."

The woman's hands balled, and every muscle in her body started quivering. Zexion flinched slightly and opened his mouth to attempt to appease her, but - slowly, slowly oh so slowly - she lifted her head. Beneath the curtain of heavy dark-blond bangs, green eyes flashed. She took a deep breath, then began.

"That's all well and good," she said, voice every bit as mocking as it was irate. Zexion's eyes narrowed curiously. Wait. Now that she was no longer shrieking, her voice sounded…odd. Low.

And then the blond goddess swept her long bangs out of her face, and Zexion froze. Oh. Oh.

"Yeah," Demyx said, straightening proudly and tossing wet locks of hair over a broad shoulder. "Yeah, that's all _very_ well and good, _jackass_." A furious glare, and then Demyx elevated a slim hand and flipped Zexion - immortal ruler of all the Underworld - the bird.

"But I'm a _guy_."

Zexion choked.

Well…fuck.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** never mine

 **Notes and Warnings:** Edited from its original form; Crack; The KH crew as Greek gods, and the bastardization of some relationships found therein; Demyx as Persephone (which deserves its own warning, as far as I'm concerned); a thousand anachronisms; shamelessly quoting _Hercules;_ "Love arrows made them do it," if by "it" you mean "kidnapping." Which I do; I've tried to make this chapter as safe as possible, but in the end it's still a retelling of Hades and Persephone, so the fact remains that Zexion kidnaps him, and Demyx is not at all in the Underworld because he wants to be.

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 **Chapter Two: In Which Marluxia Confronts Xemnas**

If there was one thing Marluxia—Mother Earth, Wielder of Scythes, and Horticulturalist Extraordinaire—prided himself on, it was being all-knowing. Omniscient, as it were. At least in regards to the things he liked to call his own, which included, but was not limited to, and in no particular order (though Demyx would contest this) the birds, the bees, the squirrels, and his little darling boy (who, of course, had never been referred to as such by either mother or father, both parents being of the selfish sort and too busy luxuriating in the pleasures of the flesh to pay their little boy any heed).

The point was, Marluxia liked to consider himself omniscient in all matters concerning his house and home. The planet Earth had been given to him by Xemnas, the bastard, and Marluxia held it covetously. He studied it, learned it, reigned supreme over the world in all its wonder. It was _his_ , and—if nothing else—Marluxia protected what was his. Or at the very least, he hid it away where no one would ever be able to take it from him.

(This, in fact, is precisely what he'd done with his son, but that is of little bearing to present events, and shall most likely not again be mentioned.)

This bit of character study shows us two things. Firstly: Marluxia was an arrogant asshole with a superiority complex the size of Pluto, who believed that he knew everything about everything, and who, quite frankly, hated Xemnas. Secondly: Superiority complex or not, Marluxia _did_ know everything about everything—assuming, of course, that this ' _everything,_ ' dealt with the earth.

Which is all a very long and convoluted way of saying that, when Zexion bludgeoned Demyx on the shores of the lake in Enna, abducting the poor boy on a misguided whim—which was not so much misguided as it was forced, Zexion just having been confused for a squirrel and hit with a love arrow—and stealing him away into the depths of the Underworld, Marluxia _felt it._ Oh, he didn't quite know what exactly had happened, had no idea that his only son had been kidnapped, but he knew that something was wrong. He could feel the earth screaming, could hear the flowers shrieking, and Marluxia took heed of their voices and opened up a portal of darkness that led him to their origin.

The lake was calm. Freakishly so, considering it was four p.m. on a Sunday and Demyx should have been swimming laps at the moment, as per his training regime (as decided by Vexen, who served as the kid's coach for the upcoming summer Olympics). Marluxia frowned, striding forward to the water's edge. The very dirt beneath his feet was sliding, moving underneath him, easing his passage and speeding his footsteps. Behind him, the trees were groaning laments, blades of grass shuddering in pain. He felt a sympathetic jolt flash up his spine, and he knelt by the lake.

This was his son's spot. Demyx's retreat. The boy had always loved water. Had always wielded a strange sort of power over it. He'd been able to call down rain since childhood. If Marluxia were the paternal sort, he'd almost be proud of him.

"Boy!" he called, glaring down into the opaque liquid, ignoring the groans and moans behind him. "Come here!"

Silence. He grit his teeth, fighting down the sudden swelling of discomfort in his gut. "Child," he cried. He frowned, dipping a hand into the water and closing his eyes, listening. Every living creature in the pool was yelling in wild discord, shrieking at him, begging to be heard. He withdrew his hand quickly, climbing to his feet.

"Demyx!" he shouted.

Nothing.

Fisting his hands against the unexpected flash of worry that swept through his chest, he strode over to the forest line, casting haughty eyes over the plants and animals there.

"What happened?" he asked silkily, jaw tense. "Where is my son?"

As one, flora and fauna raised their voices in a symphony of agony. "Gone! Gone, your son is gone! Demyx is gone!"

"Where?!"

" _Gone!"_ the woods wailed, offering no explanation. " _Gone!"_

Marluxia shouted in frustration, turning in a circle to glare at the circle of trees surrounding the calm lagoon. The place in his chest where mortals wore their hearts was seizing, contracting strangely with pain and anger and righteous, jealous fury. "Who has taken him? Who has taken my _son!?_ "

The woods grew silent. Then, slowly, murmurs began arising, hardening into incoherent shrieks.

" _Tell me!_ " Marluxia screamed.

Stillness. Whispers. And then finally, a name:

" _Zexion."_

Marluxia stilled. "Zexion?"

" _Yes!"_

" _Hades!"_

" _Your child is gone._ "

Marluxia stood there, facing a line of trees, and blinked.

And every flower within a twenty meter radius spontaneously combusted.

Setting: Hell. Four immortals stand along the far-side of the River Styx, locked in a silent face off. That is to say, Zexion—youngest son born of incestuous Titans, undisputed ruler of Hell—and Demyx—whose only real claim to fame was being able to profess both Marluxia _and_ Larxene as parents—were locked in a silent face off. Cloud and Leon just stood there, uncomfortable, quiet, and hoping to all hells that no one would notice them.

"Cloud," Zexion said, the calm in his voice belied by the way his left eye had developed a quite unattractive tic. "I thought you told me that Marluxia had a _daughter._ "

"Err, no," Cloud murmured, shaking his head slowly and averting his gaze towards the river. "I didn't."

Zexion's eyes narrowed. "You're trying my patience."

"But, uh, sir," Leon mumbled, shoving his hands into his robe's pockets. "He really didn't. If you'll notice, Cloud used ambiguous pronouns all through his descriptions. _You're_ the one who decided that Lord Demyx," and here he aimed a curt nod at the boy in question, "was a woman."

"When I said that I wanted a _bride_ ," Zexion said, "I assumed that the implication in favor of females was evident. Because most wives are, you know. _Female._ "

"Tell that to the Big Man," Cloud muttered. "He doesn't seem to mind."

"Xemnas and Saïx are _not_ what you'd call a _conventional couple_!" Zexion hissed, which was just about the moment when the hysteria finally won over the enchantment, and the last remaining vestiges of magic disappeared, and Zexion went stumbling back.

It wasn't like it had felt earlier; with fog being forcibly drawn from his brain, horrible and all-consuming in its pain. This felt more like cold water had been splashed all over him, and the only thing that was left for a moment was disorienting shock.

He'd just kidnapped someone. He'd just kidnapped someone with the intention of having them for his own. He'd seen a person, and he'd wanted them, and he'd forced them to the Underworld, and there was no coming back from that, there was nothing he could do to fix that, and the worst part of it was that he had no idea why.

Zexion didn't often hate himself for things he'd done. He wasn't going to start now. But he did feel sick.

"I wanted a woman," he said, forcing the waver out of his voice. "So, yes, it does irritate me that instead I'm saddled with _this._ "

"Right here, you know," Demyx mumbled. "I can hear you just fine."

"If I may remind you," Zexion said, because he was god of the Underworld, and everyone in this room depended on him, and he could not let himself be weak, "you're not exactly in a position to be acting the fool. If anything, you'd do well to—"

"I can do whatever the _fuck_ I want!" Demyx said, tossing his head back furiously. "I'm Marluxia's _fucking_ child! I've just been _fucking_ kidnapped!"

"You know, for a divine being, your language leaves much to be desired," Zexion said, lifting a hand to brush long locks of hair out of his eyes. "To be expected, I suppose, when one is the spawn of those two. But I promise you, kidnapping wasn't my intention. I never meant to bring you here."

"Then why _did_ you?" Demyx cried. He took a step backward, his shoulders curving in on themselves in what looked worryingly like an instinctive desire to make as small a target as possible. The initial shock seemed to have passed. That wouldn't be good. "I never did anything to you! I've never seen you! Why would you do this?! Do you not understand what you've _done?!_ My mother's going to kill you! My father's going to _neuter_ you! I'm going to miss the Olympics!"

"I assure you," Zexion said, with all the stiff poise he could manage, "I did not mean to do this. I am not entirely sure why I did. It was a momentary lapse that I find myself deeply regretting more and more as each moment passes."

"You know, for a suitor, you're not very nice," Demyx mumbled.

"And I'll speak with your parents," Zexion continued. "Or Marluxia, at the least. Truth be told, I'd rather not have to deal with your mother."

Demyx lifted an eyebrow. For the first time since his abduction it wasn't in absolute disdain. "Uh, no," Demyx said, shaking his head slowly and turning to stare at Zexion in something resembling curiosity. " _Marluxia's_ my mother. Larxene's my father."

Zexion blinked. "What?"

"The kid's not lying," Leon muttered helpfully. "Marluxia bore the child."

" _What?"_

"Still here," Demyx mumbled, waving sarcastically. "Still would rather not have to think about my parent's sex lives."

"You know," Zexion said. "You're fast becoming the most _annoying_ creature I've ever had the displeasure of meeting."

" _Kidnapping._ "

"I'd _thank_ you to keep yourself silent," Hades said.

Demyx took an indignant step backwards, his hands fisting. "Listen," he said, lifting a finger and pointing it the god of the Underworld. "I did _nothing_ to you. You dragged me here against my will, on the mistaken belief that _anyone_ would take kindly to being forced into marriage."

"I've _told_ you," Zexion snarled, struggling to retain his composure. "It was not my intention to—"

"—knock me unconscious, stuff me in a rucksack, throw me into the backseat of your unholy chariot, and canter off past planes of existence into the vast reaches of Hades, where my mother has no dominion and thus cannot enter." Demyx laughed, the sound a strange mixture of panic and rage. "Yes, I heard you the first time. But intentional or not, it's what you did. You knocked me out and whisked me away. To _Hell._ Because…because you wanted me to…" He shook his head, mouth opening and closing for a moment before he apparently regained his speech capacity. "To _marry_ you."

"It wasn't my intention," Zexion grit from between clamped teeth. "I can't remember why I did it."

"That's so far removed from the issue it might as well be on a different planet!" Demyx said. "You kidnapped me!"

"I wish you would calm down about it," Zexion said. "There's no need to work yourself into even more of a panic."

"Shut up!" Demyx shrieked, wildly flailing his arms about. "I'm distraught! I've just been kidnapped! I'm not going to calm down!"

"Perhaps meditation," Zexion said. "Yoga. Deep breaths."

"I'm in the Underworld!" Demyx shouted. His voice squeaked embarrassingly on the last syllable. "I'm _dead!_ I can't _take_ any fucking breaths!"

"Please stop and listen to yourself," the god of Hades snarled. "You're immortal, if you recall correctly."

"I don't recall correctly! You killed my long-term memory when you _clubbed_ me upside the fucking _face!_ "

"So," Cloud interrupted, waving a thumb over his shoulder. "You obviously have no further use for us, so Leon and I are just gonna—"

" _Sit down, please,_ " Zexion growled. Cloud and Leon both fell flat on their asses.

"Listen to me," Zexion said, visibly trying to restrain himself from doing something he would regret even more than abduction _._ Given the fact that he was doing a mediocre job of restraining his panic, this was rather difficult. "I'm going to make an effort to explain this to you in terms your diminutive mind might _possibly_ understand."

"Well thanks, buddy," Demyx muttered.

"I understand that you're upset," Zexion continued, ignoring the interruption. "I understand that I acted unwisely. And I understand that this is not an entirely happy situation for either of us. But once you crossed the River Styx, you lost the ability to return to your world. You cannot go back. It's impossible. There is nothing you can do."

Demyx stared at him, eyes narrowed. "You're telling me," he snarled, hands fisted at his sides, "that I can't swim across this _river._ "

"Yes."

"This _river._ "

"Exactly."

" _I_ …cannot swim…across this _river._ That is what you're telling me."

Zexion closed his eyes in weariness, mentally congratulating himself on finally being able to explain the facts of un-life. "Yes," he said tiredly. "That's _exactly_ what I'm saying."

Demyx stared at him for a very long moment. And then he snorted. "Well, fuck _that._ "

And so, Demyx took a header into the River Styx.

Zexion, Cloud, and Leon stared at the place where Demyx had once occupied. And then they simultaneously yelped.

All was calm on Mount Olympus. Gods were mingling, muses were singing, and Xemnas was quite busy screwing Saïx into a cumulus cloud. The immortal life was, if you'll forgive the pun, absolutely _divine._

And then Marluxia teleported himself inside Zeus' private chambers, all bedroom eyes and sneers, and the delicate calm shattered like Zexion's forced rigidity after his poor kidnapped wife-to-be took a nose-dive into the River From Which None Return.

"Xemnas!" the god of the earth said, regally tossing his pink locks of hair over a broad shoulder. He managed a jerky bow, mocking eyes fixed on the pair staring up at him. "I would like an audience!"

Xemnas's brow lifted in a perfect example of sardonic disdain, and he slowly detached himself from his spouse. He stood, completely unmindful of his nudity, and lazily waved an arm. The small cluster of clouds the couple had been using as a makeshift horizontal surface shifted, tendrils extending to cover their modesty. Another wave, and a single black tunic floated into his hands. Only then did he turn fully towards Marluxia.

"Yes, Marluxia," he drawled. He lifted a hand to the nape of his neck and tilted it backwards, stretching the muscles there. "I gathered. What is so… _pressing…_ that you'd come directly into my private chambers without waiting for an appointment?"

Marluxia grit his teeth against the drawl in his Superior's voice and lifted his chin. "Your _brother,"_ he said, with great dignity, "has _kidnapped_ my _child._ "

 _This_ drew the sovereign short. "Your child?" he asked curiously.

"My child," Marluxia said. "The god of the damned Underworld has just _abducted_ my _child."_

A pause. " _Zexion?_ "

"Yes," Marluxia said. "Zexion. Kidnapped. My child. Thereby forcing him into an eternal life of darkness, deviancy, and damnation. Because Zexion. Kidnapped. My child."

"Marluxia," Xemnas said sagely, slowly wrapping the sheer black robe around himself. "You really should work on those fragment sentences. And the alliterations. All of that wordplay cannot be good for the child."

"With all due respect," Marluxia said, "I'm not quite sure that's the point."

"On the contrary, Demeter," Xemnas disagreed, casting a noble eye over the furious lesser god. "It's _precisely_ the point. You and Athena have never done a good job raising that boy. Was it not with Poseidon that he spent the greater part of his early years? Is it not true that the pair of you barely raised him at all? You have, by all accounts, scarcely ever paid any heed to that son of yours. Larxene, in fact, is rumored to have thrown the child into a _pit_ of _vipers_. All because he was yelling too loudly."

"In her defense," Marluxia said, "he _was_ yelling pretty loudly."

"He was two months old," Xemnas said.

"I don't feel that's an excuse," Marluxia said.

"My point, dear kinsman," Xemnas said, voice as calm and long-suffering as a gentle sky, "is that neither of you have ever proven yourselves to be what one would call _model parents._ Why then do you ask me to help your cause?"

"The fact that my child was kidnapped should be reason enough?"

Xemnas stared at him. Marluxia stared back.

" _Sir,_ " Marluxia said. "He is my _son._ "

"And you are not a very good parent," Xemnas responded.

"He is still mine," Marluxia said. "You have children. You have many, _many_ children—" and here he aimed a spiteful sneer at Saïx, who narrowed his eyes back at him. "I know your love for each is vast. You know the happiness of siring a child, and you know well the agony of losing one. Please," he said, pouring as much false subservience into the word as he could muster. "Do not begrudge me the only child I've ever borne."

Xemnas paused in his dressing, back still turned towards the god of earth. He tilted his head slightly towards the right, the calm in his profile belied by the visible quirk of interest tilting his lips. "You care for him."

"Barely," Marluxia said honestly. "But I carried the brat inside me for nigh on a year. I nursed him, put up with him, and did not throw him into a well, no matter how much apparent pleasure he seemed to take in interrupting Larxene and I at all hours of the night. If Vexen says that he had more of a role in my child's life than I did, it's a lie. I raised him, I cared for him, I taught him how to channel his control of the earth into control over water. I kept him at home, even after your daughter told me to toss him out until he was old enough not to scream when left alone for more than an hour at a time. She threw a fit. I didn't get laid for _years."_

Saïx's mouth twitched. "A mark of love if there ever was one."

Marluxia ignored him.

"Superior," Marluxia said slowly, keeping his eyes carefully trained on the stone beneath his feet. He would _not_ lose his composure, and he would not lose his son. Demyx was _his_ , dammit. He'd endured six fucking months of morning sickness, irritable bowel syndrome, and bad breath. He'd gained nine pounds. His thighs grew as thick as _hams._ He'd raised the kid for years—if not affectionately, then at least willingly, which was more than you could say about the majority of the jerk-offs populating the heavens.

Demyx was his son. His only son, and as annoying as the brat was, Demyx was still _his_. And really, Marluxia kind of liked the boy. Was proud of him, in some small, reluctant way. The fauna listened to him, the flora bloomed under him. He was a magnificent asset to an earth god.

Demyx would _not_ be taken from him.

"Zeus," Marluxia murmured, dipping his chin a notch further downward. "I want my son back. The earth has fallen in love with him. It will not thrive without him. It will not _survive_ without him. Please," he whispered, smothering a victorious smirk. "I want him back."

Xemnas exhaled, dramatically outstretching his arms towards Marluxia. "You know I cannot bring him back forcibly," he said. "I have no dominion over the Underworld. I could no more trespass on Zexion's domain than I could demand you turn spring into autumn."

Marluxia nodded to himself; irritating though it was, he'd expected as much.

"But the case is curious," Xemnas said. "I would like to know what caused this. This isn't something Zexion would normally do. "

"I'd always assumed he was aromantic," Saïx said. "He's never displayed any sort of interest in anyone until now."

"More importantly, he knows the perils of burning bridges," Xemnas said. "My brother does not seem the sort who would swoop in on a winged chariot and whisk anyone away. Except in war, perhaps, or revenge, but for the sake of locking someone away until Stockholm Syndrome got the best of them—that makes little sense. Zexion does not act on his passions. Zexion barely has passions. He is not unwise, not impulsive. He would never risk an all-out war between the gods, just for the sake of love. It's absolutely out of—"

" _Xemnas is gonna_ _ **kill**_ _us."_

Xemnas blinked. "…character," he finished. He cocked his head to the side. "Did either of you just hear that?"

" _Not if he doesn't find out, he won't,"_ another voice answered the first. There was the sound of a struggle outside of the chamber's door, and all heads turned towards the entrance.

" _We have to tell!"_ the first voice cried frantically. _"They could be in trouble! If Xemnas finds out—"_

" _He won't!"_

Xemnas narrowed his eyes, because as we all know, mighty and powerful gods dislike having their omniscience called into question. He began striding towards the entrance.

" _Riku!"_ the higher-pitched voice muttered furiously. _"You shot_ _ **Zexion**_ _!"_

Xemnas froze in his steps. Behind him, Marluxia and Saïx blinked.

"Does that sound like Sora to you?" Saïx asked curiously.

" _It had a time limit! He'll get over it by the time they get to the Underworld. He'll bring the kid right back! No one has to know!"_

"Sora," Marluxia mumbled. "As in Eros. The one with the arrows."

"The _love_ arrows."

"The love arrows Riku's been aching to get his hands on for months."

"The love arrows," Saïx concluded, lips twitching in an expression of _supreme_ satisfaction, "Riku used to shoot Zexion."

Silence. Outside, the sound of slaps and squeals grew progressively louder.

"Well," Xemnas said finally, voice a bright parody of lightheartedness. "That _does_ answer a few questions, doesn't it?"

" _No one has to know?! Riku! You shot the god of death! He abducted someone! He crossed them across the river Styx! Did you even recognize who it was he kidnapped? That was_ _ **Demyx**_ _! As in, Demeter's_ _ **son**_ _!"_

" _Well, Demeter's an insensitive_ _ **jackass**_ _! He probably hasn't even realized—"_

And this was when Marluxia, in all his flowery glory, strode to Xemnas's front door and shoved it open. Riku and Sora stood before him, each in a headlock. Slowly, ever so slowly, they turned to stare up at him.

"So," Marluxia drawled, raising a delicate eyebrow and reaching an elegant hand outwards to grab the once-mortal by the collar. "You're the one who got my beautiful baby boy abducted." He smirked. "Huh. Sucks to be you."

If Riku then chose to use his vocal chords to squeak like a baby (and you will _never_ get him to admit that he did), the reader will at least be relieved to know that the break in character was for good reason.

Many miles away, three immortals stood by the edge of an infamous river, staring down into its murky depths. And then as one, they groaned.

"He's not coming up, is he?" Leon asked, peering down into the opaque mire of the River Styx. Underneath the uppermost layer of thick, viscous water, a hundred million souls drifted, ready to drag any unsuspecting mortal _—_ or immortal, as it were _—_ into the thick quagmire of limbo.

"Don't think so," Cloud muttered, tugging idly at a long blond spike of hair. "I reckon the idiot's panicking right about now."

"I _told_ him he couldn't swim across the river," Zexion growled, stomping down on the near manic urge to wring his hands together. "I know I did. Repeatedly." He groaned, thumbing a finger against his temple and rubbing it in small, counter-clockwise circles. "Go and get him."

His boatman squawked. " _What?!"_

"You heard me," Zexion said. "As far as I'm concerned, this is all your fault. You deliberately manipulated me into kidnapping him."

"With all due respect, I did no such thing," Cloud said. "I just made a recommendation. _You_ , my Lord, are the one who decided to make off with him."

"And _you_ , my faithful boatman, are trying my patience," Zexion said, his right eye beginning to gain a subtle tic. "Remember, Cloud, you belong to _me._ If I say sing, you say 'name that tune.' If I say I want Wonderboy's head on a platter, you say _—_ "

"'Medium or well-done,' yada yada yada, I saw the movie, too," Cloud muttered, voice just this side of miffed. He sighed, poking a foot into the river. "Just because I man your personal ferry, it doesn't mean I can hop into the river of _death_ and hope to survive, much less have enough time to grab him and haul him back up before the water _sucks_ my _life_ away."

"You speak as if you had a choice," Zexion said flatly, and that was that. Cloud groaned in frustration and removed his sandals, aiming furious glares at the god standing sanctimoniously over him. He might have said more, except that there was something strange about Zexion's face right now. His pupils looked like pinpricks. He looked, for the first time in all the years Cloud had known him (and that was a very long while), terrified and lost.

"Alright," Cloud said instead. "I'll jump in. Wish me luck."

"I love you," Leon said solemnly. "I'll personally oversee the appointment of the next Charon. You can count on me, Cloud."

"If I make it out of this, I'm leaving you for Sephiroth," Cloud said.

And with that, Cloud took a deep breath and hopped into the river.

Blackness. For the first time in his immortal life, he finally understood why humans were so afraid of death. All around him, souls congregated, grasping at his legs, tugging him further downwards. Emaciated faces shoved themselves at him, wordless pleas and screams filling his mind, creating sounds and gasps where there were none.

He shoved them away, doing his level best to ignore the wraithlike, insubstantial limbs clawing at him. God, Marluxia's brat could be anywhere by now, could have been dragged a thousand feet underneath. There was no way he'd be able to find the boy, not with so many millions standing between _—_

There. A body that was not ringed in ghostly green, and Cloud took off towards it. Arm over arm over arm, moving unbearably slowly, until finally the hundred meters separating them became fifty, became twenty, became ten, became _—_

Cloud grabbed at Demyx's arm. Demyx whirled to stare at him. His eyes were wide, and he looked unbearably panicked. Cloud grimaced, then jerked his head back towards the river's edge.

Demyx stared at him for a minute. And then he shook his head.

Cloud's eyes narrowed angrily, and he pointed a furious finger to the surface. Demyx shook his head again, pulling his arm away and drawing strange symbols into the water with his fingers. With every subsequent movement, his face grew more and more desperate.

He was trying to command the water, Cloud suddenly realized, and on that thought's heels was the realization that it would not work. Around him, souls were pulling at their sleeves, wrapping arms around their shoulders in macabre embraces. They were sinking further and further with each passing second, and when Cloud tugged at Demyx's arms again, he finally nodded, closing his eyes and sluggishly turning in the water.

They moved at a snail's pace, struggling desperately for every inch of altitude they could manage. Leg's kicking furiously, arms pumping almost uselessly, Demyx pulling ahead every few minutes, then pausing to draw Cloud a bit further along.

A hundred feet, eighty.

Souls upon souls upon souls, silent shrieks and wails and groans seizing the cavity in his chest.

Fifty, forty, thirty. Cloud glanced at Demyx. He thought the boy just might have been crying.

Ten feet, five _—_

And then strong hands were wrapping around his arms, hauling him up and out of the water, depositing both boatman and god onto the river's edge.

" _Fuck_ ," Leon muttered, pulling Cloud into a sitting position. "I really thought…" His hands jerked, frantically smoothing the goo-damp spikes of hair out of Cloud's face. "But you're okay, right?"

"The kid," Cloud gasped, smacking Leon's hands away and turning towards the gasping young god. Demyx was lying flat on his back, eyes wide, mouth a gaping hole helplessly heaving for breath.

"What was that?" Demyx asked dully, eyes staring almost vacantly up. "The water…it wouldn't listen to-"

"That was the river of _death_ , you incompetent _fool_ ," Zexion snarled, tossing his hair angrily away from his eyes. "It's not real water! When I told you that you couldn't swim across it, I did not mean that you could _maybe_ swim across it. I meant that it was _impossible._ "

"I…thought _—_ "

"I know what you thought, you insufferable brat," Zexion hissed. "You thought that you could break the laws of the underworld. You thought that just because you hold some strange command over water, that you'd be able to cross _my_ river."

"I _—_ "

"Silence," Hades snarled, struggling to get hold of the strange clenching in his throat. He was scared, he realized. He'd kidnapped someone, he'd ruined their life, and he didn't know why he'd done it, he could barely remember having done it, and they'd jumped into the river of death to get away from him, and he knew nothing and they were both so scared. "You've proven yourself to be the _worst_ sort of fool in the single hour I've spent in your presence. I cannot believe I risked my boatman to save your miserable hide."

Demyx's eyes snapped towards him. He shifted onto his side, limbs languidly pushing himself up into a sitting position. "You kidnapped me," he whispered, voice strangely hoarse. "You stalked me, you clobbered me, you tied me up in a sack and dragged me to _Hell_ , and after _all that_ you…" His mouth worked wordlessly for a moment, and for a moment the stark rage and indignity and pain Zexion feel like running away. "You couldn't even find the courage to jump in after me yourself?"

Zexion drew himself up sharply, staring down at the young god, lying half-crumpled on the floor. "I'd rather not dirty my hands for one such as you."

"Lord!" Leon cried indignantly. Cloud narrowed his eyes, just slightly, but nudged himself to the right, shielding their captive as much as he could. Demyx's eyes went wide for the barest fraction of a second. Then his face crumpled.

"You're cruel," he murmured. He blinked slowly, turning his face towards the river, staring at it blankly as if still in shock at the water's betrayal. "You're…really cruel."

"And you're trapped," Zexion said, because that was the truth. He turned so that no one, not boatman or judge or the person he'd just stolen, would see the terror on his face. He spun on his heels, robes billowing behind him, and began walking. "So you have no choice but to get used to the fact that you are here to stay."

"I'm not," Demyx said, stumbling to his feet. "I'll find a way out."

"You won't," Zexion said. "No one leaves hell, except my brothers and me. There are rules in place that I cannot control, and if Styx has decided that you cannot leave, then you cannot leave. Ask her tomorrow if she's changed her mind. Maybe I'll even send someone in after you again."

"Fucker!" Demyx said, trying to make a running leap for him, only to be tackled mid-jump by Zexion's loyal minions. "I _hate_ you!"

"My kingdom numbers the trillions," Zexion said. "I love none of them. Love is not a requirement for cohabitation."

"I'll get out," Demyx yelled. "I'll get out and when I do I'll kill you. I swear I'll kill you. Let me go!"

But Zexion had already left, heart in his throat, and there was nothing any of the three deities still standing by the river could do about it.

Marluxia sighed, idly propping his chin up on the palm of his right hand. "This is going to be a right mess, isn't it?" he asked. When no answer was forthcoming, he sighed irritably and shook his left hand. "Oi," he said, peering down the rim of the cloud he was lying on. "I asked you a question."

Riku, hanging upside down by his left ankle (which Marluxia had a rather loose hold of; Riku wasn't quite secure in the bastard's grip, and was sweating quite profusely) managed to shoot the earth god a glare. It failed quite spectacularly, as Riku's face was beet red from the massive immigration of all the blood in his body to his head.

"Go…suck…it…" he gasped.

"Why, Riku," Marluxia smirked. "That's not very nice." To illustrate this, he began swinging the unfortunate Riku back and forth like a pendulum.

"Sir!" Sora cried worriedly, crossing his arms over his chest. "I know that you're mad, but could you please try not to drop him?"

"What?" Marluxia sneered, lifting a mocking eyebrow. "You'd rather take his place?"

Sora blinked. "Uh, actually, yeah."

"I love you, baby!" Riku cried happily.

"Oh shut up," Marluxia said, giving the boy's ankle an irritated tug. "That's quite charitable of you, Sora, but I won't be taking you up on that offer." He sighed, rubbing at the bridge of his nose with his spare hand. "Don't worry. I'll let him up as soon as I figure it out."

Sora gave his lover an encouraging pat on the calf. "Figure what out?"

Marluxia groaned and fell flat on his stomach. Riku squawked and dropped another foot.

"How the _hell_ are we gonna tell Larxene?"

Riku and Sora blinked at him. And then, from the boy still hanging precariously by the ankle off the edge of a cloud:

"Uh… _ **we**_ _?!_ "


End file.
